The Reckoning Page 4

  “So yours is tomorrow? It’s gonna be quite the week for Mom and Dad.”

  “I don’t need their help. I just stay in my room and sleep or watch TV. It’s not so bad, though getting through the rest of the week is gonna be brutal; those mini-infusions barely do anything for me. What’s your plan for Thursday?”

  “I have to go to school, I have two fairly important tests that day. Mom did say I can stay home Friday, though -- Oceana told her that my crash is coming this week, too, when they went into the city this weekend.”

  Evander laughed, and Tristan looked over at him.

  “What?”

  “Good luck with the tests. You’ll be exhausted just getting dressed for school, never mind having to actually use your brain for something useful.”

  “Oceana said I can borrow energy to make it through. She claims it doesn't break any of our rules since no one is being harmed and there will be plenty to spare in school.”

  Evander nodded, looking impressed.

  “That’s actually not a bad idea. I wish she’d shared that with me.”

  Tristan laughed again and pulled into the school’s parking lot. Evander jumped out, bidding her goodbye and going to meet up with some of his friends from the football team. Tristan watched him go, wondering how strange it must look to their classmates for Evander and Olivia to be so well-liked and popular while Tristan was… not. It was strange to her, and she didn’t care nearly as much about appearances as the people she was forced to see on a daily basis.

  Tristan pulled her backpack out of the backseat and headed towards the Academy, ending up trailing Emmeline and her crew by a few feet. The unpleasant reminder that Emmeline and Beckett had gotten back together sprang into Tristan’s mind, and she had to work not to groan.

  “...Just don’t know what his problem is…” Emmeline’s voice floated back to Tristan, and she picked up her pace just slightly, her curiosity piqued.

  “...Accused him of being into Tristan, but I know he’s not that dumb…”

  Tristan told herself to hang back. All it would take was one cronie catching her out of her peripheral vision, and they’d turn on her like a pack of hungry dogs. Still, she continued to creep forward.

  “No, Eloise, I don’t know,” Emmeline snapped, and Tristan was sorry she’d missed Eloise’s question. “But I’m not worried, and I’m not giving up. I saw the way he looked at me. And I know what I felt when I had him up against the wall.”

  The group laughed, and Tristan slowed her step. So Emmeline and Beckett were not back together, but Emmeline was trying. The sun broke through the clouds overhead, and Tristan looked up, smiling. For now, her senior project was safe. For now, Beckett Benson is single, a little voice in her head whispered, which she promptly ignored.

  ***

  Tristan had just closed her locker, her arms full, when Emmeline elbowed her hard, sending her books and papers flying everywhere.

  “Oh my gosh, oops!” Emmeline put her hand to her mouth in mock surprise, her eyes wide. “I didn’t even see you there! You forgot to make yourself un-invisible this morning!”

  The other kids in the hallway laughed, and Emmeline shot Tristan a malicious grin before continuing on her way. Shaking her head, Tristan gathered her things, her face burning.

  “Need help with those?” A familiar voice asked, as Tristan attempted to restack her books in her arms.

  She looked up from where she knelt, right into the face of Beckett Benson, and her stomach flipped just a little.

  “No. I’m fine.”

  Beckett retrieved her last two notebooks from where they'd landed after skidding down the hall, waiting until she stood before placing them gently atop the pile.

  “Thanks,” Tristan muttered, blowing a strand of hair out of her face.

  “I can help you carry them if you tell me where you're going,” Beckett said, eyeing the pile.

  “I said no thank you,” Tristan snapped, and Beckett held up his hands, backing up a few steps.

  “OK, OK. Just offering.” Beckett looked like he wanted to say something else, but decided against it. “I’ll see you around, Tristan.”

  Tristan shook her head as he walked away, turning on her heel and stalking off to class. He’d said her name that too-familiar way again, which made her think of Emmeline commenting earlier that she’d known what she’d felt when she’d pinned Beckett against the wall. Tristan’s face flushed again, and she immediately forced those thoughts out of her head. If she was going to get through senior year with Beckett as her project partner, she was going to have to keep him at a distance, both outwardly and in. Fantasizing, even tangentially, about what it might feel like to be pressed up against Beckett Benson could lead nowhere but straight into trouble.

  Tristan took her seat in Chemistry, ignoring the way Emmeline snickered in her direction. She pulled out her notebook and opened it, keeping her gaze on the teacher, Mr. Waterston, who looked like what you’d get if you put trousers, a dress shirt, and a bowtie on a bowling pin. He was a tall, bespectacled, white-haired chemistry enthusiast who walked with a heavy limp and positively beamed whenever he got into his teaching groove. Tristan was not a huge fan of the subject, but she appreciated Mr. Waterston’s passion, which made her want to do well in his class.

  “Mr. Waterston?” Emmeline raised her hand when Mr. Waterston had taken a moment to drink from the bottle of water he kept on his desk.

  “Yes Miss Strandquest?”

  “Talking about energy changes and endo- and exothermic reactions has got me wondering. Is it possible, scientifically, for a human to ever change its form?”

  The class began to murmur, and Mr. Waterston cocked his head, furrowing his brow.

  “Sorry, I’m not clear on what you’re asking. Are you asking if a human can undergo an endo- or exothermic reaction? Like spontaneous combustion?”

  “I’m asking...” Emmeline trailed off, tapping her finger against her lips, then smiled brightly, starting again. “OK. Let’s say you have a human, right, who shuts themselves in their house all the time, doing all manner of ungodly who knows what kinds of things, real weird things, and who has been seen on the rare occasion they leave the house practically worshipping the sun and the moon? Could it be that they’re, I don’t know, some kinda shapeshifter? Some kinda… witch? Do those things exist in God’s created nature, or do they come straight here from Hell?”

  Tristan could feel her classmates staring at her, could see them laughing behind their hands and nudging each other.

  “Ms. Strandquest, I have no idea what you’re talking about, and if I wanted you to waste my time, I’d ask you to talk to me about fashion. Settle!” Mr. Waterston raised his voice over the class’s laughter, and Tristan glared at Emmeline, who’d twisted around in her seat to leer at her. “Let’s move on.”

  Tristan ducked out of class as soon as the bell rang, successfully avoiding another Emmeline run-in. Her next two classes were Emmeline-free, and she’d take her lunch, as usual, in the library instead of the cafeteria. Her first class after lunch was with Emmeline, but that would be it for the rest of the day. If she was diligent, she could make it through with minimal contact; for whatever reason, Emmeline had more of a target on Tristan's back than usual that day.

  Tristan’s diligence paid off, and it was with a sigh of relief that she stopped by her locker before English, her last class of the day before free period. In a repeat of that morning, she’d just closed her locker door when Emmeline shoved her books out of her hands once again, sending them flying down the hall.

  “What the hell is your problem?” Tristan snarled, balling her hands into fists.

  “You are.” Emmeline came right up to Tristan, their noses practically touching. “A little advice, Tristan? The next time you wanna eavesdrop on one of my conversations, don’t. Witch.”

  Tristan was late for English, muttering an apology to Ms. West as she rushed into class, taking her seat without looking at anyone. She opened her notebook an
d bent her head, feeling Beckett’s eyes on her. It took most of the class for her racing heart to calm, for the fire to leave her cheeks. She was angry at Emmeline, yes, but more angry at herself, not just for getting caught, but for eavesdropping at all.

  After class, she heard Beckett calling her name, but she fled down the hall away from him, heading back to the library for her free period. She couldn't keep thinking Beckett was different; even if he didn't torment her the way Emmeline and her friends did, he didn't defend her, either. It was dangerous to think anything more of him than her project partner, to think of him in any capacity outside of that, and she'd do well to remember it.

  Beckett watched Tristan practically run down the hall away from him, disappearing around the corner to her next class. He didn't know why she was avoiding him, didn't know what he could have possibly done when he hadn't seen her since that morning. Had she been that offended by his offering to help carry her books? She'd been hostile, Beckett had picked up on that right away, but it didn't make sense that she'd avoid him over their encounter.

  “Dude, you gotta stop staring at Tristan Wallace. It's getting weird.” Jason stopped beside Beckett, looking slightly alarmed as he followed Beckett's gaze down the hall. “What's your deal? People are starting to talk. You know that girl's a freak, and so is her family. I don't know who decided Olivia and Evander get a pass, but it wasn't me, so I just keep my mouth shut and go along with it. But they're freaky, too. Slightly less freaky, but freaky.”

  “She's my partner for our English project. And she's really not weird. You ever talk to her?”

  Jason looked outright horrified by Beckett's question and, though Beckett knew it wasn't nice, he laughed.

  “Listen, Emmeline Strandquest is thirstin’ after you in a bad way. Most guys in this school would kill to be in your position. And I'm pretty sure Emmeline would kill most girls who tried to take her position, but she's hot, so she'd probably get away with it. Anyway, I know you guys broke up a while back, but don't overthink it, man. Snatch that fine piece of ass back up before she moves on for good.”

  Beckett laughed again, shaking his head as he and Jason made their way down the hallway towards the back entrance of the school.

  “Nah, man. Been there, done that, don't wanna do it again. But listen, I told you. Tristan is my project partner; we're not even friends. I didn't realize I was staring at her.”

  “Whatever you say. Just don't wanna get here one morning and discover you were dragged off for a ritual sacrifice because you got too close to the Wallaces.” Jason grinned, pushing open the back doors and bellowing at Tyler across campus on the football field. Tyler bellowed back.

  “For believing in God, y'all sure are superstitious in this town,” Beckett said, shaking his head, and Jason nodded his head in agreement.

  Football practice that day was brutal, but Beckett was extremely impressed with Evander Wallace. Though he was slight of build, he was an absolute beast on the field, and Beckett knew that if he played that way in their upcoming game, they'd crush the competition. He approached Evander after practice, as they all crossed the field back to the Academy.

  “Hey man, great playing today.”

  Evander surveyed him with cool gray eyes, identical to Olivia's.

  “Thanks.”

  “You been training off the field or something?”

  “Or something,” Evander smirked.

  Privately, Beckett sort of agreed with Jason's assessment about the twins. There was definitely something as offbeat about them as there was about Tristan, but the twins also gave off an ultra-cool vibe that Beckett knew most of the popular crowd secretly wished they could attain for themselves. Beckett was older than the twins, yet even he felt like a dweeb next to Evander Wallace.

  “Good talk,” Beckett clapped Evander on the shoulder, then jogged off to catch up with Tyler and another teammate, Henry Aspern.

  Evander took the opportunity to read Beckett as he walked off. He was different than the other guys, that much Evander knew, but Evander had overheard some things that made him wary of Beckett's proximity to Tristan -- or his desired proximity, anyway. That part came through loud and clear to Evander; Beckett was interested in Tristan, whether or not he'd admit it aloud.

  Evander focused, waiting for the snapshot in his mind to develop. Beckett's general aura was good, which was promising. His intentions, even his deepest, most secret intentions, were solidly in the positive realm. His overall color was quite a lovely shade of dark blue, which indicated that he was true of heart. It was the band of yellow, acting as an outline around the blue, that Evander knew contained the desire for popularity, the hesitation to upset the status quo, the struggle to do what he knew was right if it meant putting him in a bad spot with his friends. Though beyond normal for kids their age, it was the presence of that yellow outline that Evander worried about, in the context of Tristan.

  Once in the locker room, Evander quickly showered and dressed, going to meet Tristan at her car. She was sitting in the driver's seat reading when he got there.

  “Finally,” Tristan said, starting the car, and Evander looked at her in surprise.

  “Wow, what's up? Your aura is almost completely red right now.”

  “Nothing,” Tristan muttered, peeling out of the parking lot. Evander knew she was going to seal, so he quickly concentrated, getting a glimpse of laughing faces and Emmeline Strandquest looking like the cat who'd caught the canary before he hit a wall.

  “Rough day?”

  Tristan snorted, but said nothing.

  Evander left her alone, and, when they arrived home, Tristan went straight to her room, where she stayed until the next morning.

  ***

  School the next day was slightly better than the day before. Emmeline made a couple of snide remarks in the halls and in class, but otherwise let her be. Beckett did not attempt to talk to Tristan when he saw her in the morning, which was fine by her.

  At lunch, Tristan got in the food line with her tray, looking around the vast cafeteria for an open, unobtrusive seat while she waited her turn. Olivia was seated in the thicket of her junior and senior friends, laughing at something Tyler Daniels had just said.

  “Hey there,” Beckett spoke from behind Tristan, and she turned, surprised to see him.

  “Hi.”

  “Know what you're getting?” Beckett gestured with his tray to the buffet behind the glass divider.

  “Oh, no, not yet.”

  Beckett nodded. “Me either. I'm thinkin’ tacos, though, you know, since it's Tuesday.”

  Tristan just stared at him.

  “Taco Tuesday? No?”

  She shook her head.

  “Huh. Well, it's a thing. And you can't go wrong with tacos any day of the week, in my opinion.”

  Tristan scrunched her mouth to one side, in an effort, Beckett knew, to not smile.

  “Have you had a chance to do any research for our project?” Beckett asked her, and Tristan nodded.

  “I have. That reminds me, though, that I can't meet you on Friday. I won't be here.”

  “Oh,” Beckett looked surprised. “OK, no problem. Goin’ somewhere?”

  “Yes,” Tristan lied.

  “How about Thursday then?”

  Tristan looked like she was struggling with something, internally.

  “Ah, um, sure. Thursday after last class.”

  It was her turn for food.

  “I'll take the tacos.”

  Beckett saw Tristan look at him from the corner of her eye, and, as she turned to walk to the cashier, a quick smile passed over her face. Beckett smiled after her, joining her at the register.

  “You wanna sit together?” Beckett asked, paying for his lunch.

  Tristan's pretty eyes widened briefly, then a cool expression took over her features.

  “No. I'll see you around, Beckett.”

  And then she was gone, making her way swiftly to a table by one of the massive cafeteria windows, which overlooked t
he sweeping Academy grounds.

  Beckett went to sit with his friends, and Emmeline, who never missed a thing, immediately latched onto him.

  “You feelin’ OK, Beckett?”

  “Fine, why?”

  “I saw you talkin’ to Tristan over there, wanted to make sure she didn't put some kind of curse on you.”

  “Curses aren't a thing, Emmeline, and neither are witches. Don't you get tired of this?”

  The lunch table quieted. Emmeline straightened her shoulders, sweeping her hair back.

  “Curses and witches, demons, evil, they do so exist. They don't come from God, but they walk right alongside us. If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times, Beckett -- you only got here in tenth grade, we've always gone to school with Tristan. I'm not talking just to talk.”

  “I don't know, it seems you do a lot of talking just to talk, Emmeline. Do you have proof of what you claim?”

  “Just look at her,” Emmeline pointed across the cafeteria. “Don't tell me you don't know there's something weird about her. Have you seen her eyes? I'm not even sure she has pupils; they're the devil's eyes. More than once I've seen something sinister in them, and I've rushed home to pray until I felt like something had stopped looking over my shoulder.”

  Beckett just looked at Emmeline, not knowing what to say. It wasn't that she made a compelling argument -- “just look at her” was problematic in many ways -- but Emmeline appeared to genuinely believe what she was saying, and, looking around the table, Beckett could see his friends believed her, too. He looked down at his lunch.

  “Beckett,” Emmeline laid a gentle hand on his arm. “You're a nice guy, and it's not surprising that you'd want to be nice to Tristan because she's your project partner, but listen to me. To us. You need to steer clear of her. The twins are weird too, but harmless -- I honestly think Tristan is holding her whole family hostage, in a way, which would make anyone weird. I'm telling you this because I care about you, not because I have ulterior motives.”

  Beckett scrubbed a hand over his face.

  “Can I eat my lunch, please?”